Stupidity of the Awesome Persuasion
by asuitcaseandapaintedface
Summary: Because this was stupid. And he was going to say it was stupid and keep on doing it. Then call himself stupid again. Pillowbooks, he blamed the stupid name.
1. Boogled Beginnings

**Something new for you guys, I really did randomly stumble upon "pillowbooks" on FictionPress. Apparently they are collections of just random thoughts, mini diaries of sorts. Started out as mine, turned into Nate's because I figured I'd get a better reception on FanFiction. So enjoy Nate's random ramblings as Connect Three begin their summer tour.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Google, or Bing.**

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Friday, June 19 12:56 AM

Found something called pillowbooks.

What in the heck is a _pillowbook_? Microsoft searched pillowbook. Found nothing but some movies and a diary some Chinese empress wrote. I think they are a diary of sorts.

Googled pillowbook. Googled it in hopes of better answers.

Google is the epitome of ALL things awesome. Seriously. What does Microsoft think it is doing by creating 'Bing'? Google is comfortable. Safe. Plus it is way more fun to say you "googled something" than it is to say "hey, let me go bing that." Bing sounds violent. Kinda like you hit your car door on something by accident, or purposely hit someone with a rolled up magazine.

Or hit an animal with a rolled up magazine.

_Shane! I'm going to bing you with this magazine if you don't stop chewing like a horse._

Yeah, _bing_ is much more violent than google. Google just sounds perverted, and funny.

_Shane googled that girl over there in the short skirt._

Ha, my best friend is such an easy target; I swear he sets himself up for it.

I wonder what would happen in Microsoft and Google swore allegiance to each other and created a MEGA SEARCH ENGINE. Ging. Or Go-ing, haha, that's actually going. Boogle.

I like that one, but it might be easy to mistype. I did that once. Typed in 'booble' and got some not so pretty things. I wish Clorox wouldn't blind me, or kill me, if I poured it in my eyes.

Bingle would be pretty funny. Except that it makes me think of the crazy doctor from the Nazi death camps that determined who lived and who died. He then decided to do some sick experiments with twins. And most of the living.

Maybe I should go to bed now. Did I mention I'm a member of one of the highest selling pop, excuse me, rock (Shane would have corrected my terrible mistake anyway) groups in the country? Connect Three. I may have also forgotten to mention we arrive in our first tour spot tomorrow and kick off our highly anticipated summer tour.

Nate reminder one. Ha, Nate-minder one. Learn to make decisions quickly. Don't leave your record label to pick out a name for your band because you and your two best friends can't make a decision.

Come on, Connect Three? Really?

Nate-minder two. This was a stupid idea. Pillowbook. Pssht, that's really girly. But I'm going to say this is stupid now and keep doing it. And then continue to say I was stupid for calling this stupid and still doing the stupid task anyway.

Okay, I need to stop now.


	2. Of Cannibalism and Cheeseburgers

**_Here's the next entry. I'm going on vacation and will have no internet access, so that means no updates for a week. *cue unhappy face* =[ But because these are so easy to write, hopefully I'll have a week's worth of updates to get to you when I'm back. Enjoy, and obviously, REVIEW._**

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Friday, June 19, 2009 12:34 PM

I told you I'd continue doing this. Who is _you_ anyway?

An omnipotent being hanging above my head as I write this? By the way, if that is _you_, you are a creeper. And I know you know that because you are hanging over my head.

And if the you turns out to be Shane?

I. Will. Kill. You. Okay, maybe not kill, but empty your hair product down the sink. And that might result in a full fledged revenge death match between us. Anyways…

Should I say something about myself? I still don't know what in the world a pillowbook is. We just finished up rehearsing, or at least the first hour of rehearsing and I am STARVING. Beyond starving. If I had to, I would probably eat one of the guys.

That's always an interesting topic. And way overused. But seriously, I've never thought about it before.

And people peg me for the quiet, sensitive one. Please. _Have they taken a look inside my head_? It's a pretty scary place when it wants to be. While I may ooze a quiet confidence to boot, give me a little while to warm up to you.

And a few coffees.

Oh rehearsal. I forgot about that.

Shane tripped over the mic cords. Again.

And I laughed my butt off. As usual. He didn't exactly appreciate the loud giggling, but I appreciated his tripping. Why not show how grateful I am for his clumsiness and show that by laughter. The greatest medicine.

Actually, before he tripped I was getting a serious headache. Jason's amp and microphone were having some SERIOUS issues and squealing. Squealing like a teenage girl that just got to touch one of our hands and tried (and failed) miserably at some opera note to show her happiness. That really made no sense.

I guess everything else went fine. Minus the fact that whoever is supposed to bringing us lunch to the venue is RUNNING LATE. Is it too much to ask to get food on time? I don't think so. Maybe I'd eat Jason first. He's fairly dense, and while he has his uh, brighter moments, keeping Shane around would probably be more entertaining.

Then again, there is the size of Shane's head to consider.

Ha, ha ha. He metaphorically has a humongous head. Like HUGE.

Gosh, wow, I'm sitting here discussing the size of m

Ha, ha ha. He metaphorically has a humongous head. Like HUGE.

Gosh, wow, I'm sitting here discussing the size of my best friend's head.

Something else to talk about..something else to talk about..ANYTHING else to talk about.

HOLY COW, THE FOOD IS FINALL

Something else to talk about..something else to talk about..ANYTHING else to talk about.

HOLY COW, THE FOOD IS FINALLY HERE. And holy cow. Literally.

That is one huge cheeseburger. One HUGE cheeseburger. Almost as big as Shane's head. Or Jason's ears.

My name is Nate Carlson. I am a Sagittarius. I love long walks on the beach, obsessively playing my guitar and writing music nonstop, reading poetry (WHAT? It inspires me.), and eating really big cheeseburgers because I am starving to death. Or, _was _starving to death.

Actually, I probably typically eat enough for three people.

FINE. I'll just come out and say it. I'm pregnant. That's why I eat so much!

Ha, you wish. There's that you again. Bye you, the band beckons.


	3. Now I Blame The Girl

**_Author's Note: So I didn't realize it till now, but I think the entry before this may have uploaded messed up, sorry if it did! I'm back from vacation and got lazy and didn't write these entries, so bear with me and sorry again!_**

Saturday, June 20, 2009 2:47 AM

I CAN'T SLEEP.

And I hate it.

After performing a three hour, yeah, you heard me, HI YOU!, THREE HOURS, my stupid behind can't sleep. It's like I'm delirious now. Not to the point of seeing things, just that now everything is hilarious.

Shane is snoring. REALLY REALLY loudly. Maybe that's why I can't sleep.

I guess the show went okay tonight. We did a few encores and signed a bunch of autographs. And there was this girl.

But, isn't there always a girl? I guess. Because it's always so stereotypical. You see her, everything around you freezes and it's just you two.

Well, that happened.

It flipping happened.

But I'm going to ignore it for now because a girl is going to screw me over, make me write these sappy love songs, and Shane will tease me endlessly about it. _Endlessly._

Which is why he will never hear about her.

Her and her gorgeous gray eyes and auburn hair. Actually, I think it was more brown than red. More a mix really..and..

STOP IT NATE. Stop it RIGHT NOW.

"Stop in the name of love, before you break.." Okay, I really do need to go to sleep.

"STOP, Hammertime!"

Really?

Could Shane snore ANY LOUDER? That's one point against him on the 'Who Would I Rather Eat?' scoreboard. Sounds like he and Jason are about even now, no clear dinner-I mean winner.

Ha, haha, ha that was punny.

Oh GOSH.

Maybe I should eat myself first.


	4. Crazed Tribal Fangirls

**_Next entry. A little more serious than the others, but enjoy! I notice the story is getting a lot of hits (yeah, I check my hits). If it's not too hard for you to do, reviewing would be nice, I don't mind the one worded reviews, but with or without I'll still keep writing, why threaten readers with a stupid review limit for the next update._**

Sunday, June 21, 2009 4:56 PM

I think I slept about all day yesterday.

Of course that was post pillowbook entry seeing as I only wrote because I couldn't sleep.

And when Shane woke up I could ACTUALLY sleep. Which turned out to be longer than I would have liked. I hate sleeping during the day. Something about it just drives me up a wall, like, I'm sleeping away my life.

Then again, I am pretty much at one of the highest points in my life.

I'm a freaking rockstar.

And somehow, that doesn't seem like enough. I feel like I'm missing something. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a selfish, spoiled, rich kid who needs more. *cough* Shane. Uh-hem.

Just kidding dude, you know you're one of my best friends.

Like I stated before, if you EVER read this behind my back, I will kill you.

I live for these weekends we have off. While I love the tour scene, rushing from place to place, surrounded by screaming fans, peace is a welcome aspect.

Even though peace does mean a relatively small tour bus in a bunk above the snoring Shane Gray.

I mean, I write. Songs and what not. Connect Three's last two hits? Mine.

Of course the label wouldn't tell you that.

And then there's the small piece-scratch that-the two small pieces paper hidden under a loosed piece of paneling in my bunk.

One being the List.

Ahh, the list you have already heard about.

BTW 'you,' long time no speak!

The "Which Bandmate Would Eat First?" scoreboard. You thought I was kidding about that. It's a piece of computer paper with a table scrawled across it and Shane and Jason's names on top of it. Shane redeemed himself by the way. He didn't eat all of the French toast this morning and left me some juice.

Sooo, sorry Jason, when stranded on an island after some crazed tribal fans have shot their poison darts at our private jet pilot and brought our plane down, you're on the menu.

Gah, that sounds extremely creepy.

Chances are you haven't forgotten that I said there were two piece of paper.

Nate Fun-Fact the Fans Don't Know And Won't Hear About 23: I can sketch. Yeah, I'm all around Renaissance man who can also draw.

And this is going to sound even creepier and more stalkerish than the whole cannibalism thing.

Maybe the tribal fangirls would take us all out at one time?

That's not the point.

So maybe, perhaps, that other piece of paper is a sketch of a girl.

A girl who I may or may not have mentioned last pillowbook. Who I don't even know. Whose face I can't get out of my head.

Moving on from that…

Have I also told you that I'm non-confrontational and tend to shut out emotions of any kind besides the joy I get from being on tour?

I guess not.


	5. Reflection on a Barf Bag

**_So, next one down. I have a few things in store, but those who are reading and not reviewing, or reading and reviewing (BTW, if you are, you are awesome!!) please leave anything you'd like to see happen in a review. I don't mind taking requests for events for Nate to reflect on as long as it isn't so gosh awful dramatic like, OMG Mitchie is pregnant with Nate's baby. Enjoy, this one was a little dull to me. Hang on readers and don't forget to hit that pretty little button below._**

Monday, June 22, 2009 1:23 AM

I'm actually writing this on a barf bag.

Even though I don't know why they still put them on our private jet because none of us get air sick.

Besides, there isn't enough plane and enough passengers for us to actually spew on while en route to the bathroom. That would be a hilarious sight though. If I didn't get queasy at the mention of barf or even at the sounds of someone saying their stomach hurt.

So the utter irony of the location of this pillowbook is great. Monumental heights of ironical irony.

Well, we are on the way to the next city, next venue, next screaming bunch of girls. Some venue in New Orleans or something, tomorrow may be Missouri, I'm not sure.

I love visiting these places, but I'm here to play, not to know every small detail of our days.

While unlike my band mates I do like having a say in the business part of Connect Three, everything while touring tends to become one huge blur.

I could be in the middle of NYC thinking I'm in Chicago if I'm really zoned out.

I need coffee. And my iPod. Which is currently packed away under Shane's bag of hair products. Epic fail on my behalf when it comes to packing.

Epic fail on Shane's behalf for being a total girl when it comes to his hair.

The plane is extremely quiet. Jason's asleep and Shane is on the phone with Mitchie. Maybe this one will actually last considering she's been the ONLY girl to ever make Shane blush at the mention of her.

Haha, watching Shane blush is the greatest thing _ever. _

So you're probably wondering. Why is Connect Three on a jet when they have their own tour bus? Personally, I would like to know that also. What happened to going green and reducing our carbon footprint and all of that other environmental stuff that whacko Al Gore was talking about?

I think the world is the tiniest bit prone to overreaction.

I never caught the swine flu. Or small pox. Or or, some flesh eating disease.

So there crazy hypochondriacs.

I hope no one finds the sketch or scoreboard hidden in my bunk. How much of a creeper would I be then? And besides, it's that girl's fault. SHE had to come into the concert looking all gorgeous. It's all her fault.

I don't even know her name! Shane is STILL talking to Mitchie. Doesn't she have a life, or have to sleep like a normal person?

He won't ever hear it from me, but I do admire him. Staying faithful in a long distance relationship, being able to handle it among everything else. Everything else being, hmm, let's think, being a rockstar. Shane may come off as an arrogant jack-well, you know what I mean, but he's really a good person.

God, am I really that bored that I'm blowing up my best friend's ego even larger than it already is?

I've got to find out her name.

Or bleach that memory out of my brain.

Whichever accomplishes the job of getting her out of my head faster.

Safety might be something else to consider in that task too.


	6. Sweeney Todding and Zombies

**_Thank you SO much my faithful reviewers, Miss Nata13, frocked, GeorgiaGal, SearchingForMyLove, cookie-cutter-rockstar, razzledazzle96, and vcgirl, like seriously, you guys make me smile. This entry is a bit random (ha, a bit) but nearly one of my favorites. That stuff about the cemetery is mostly true, minus the whole walking dead thing, I watched some haunted places show and it talked about New Orleans Cemetery Number One (or some other number) and the ghost of the voodoo priestess. No joke, those poor people are piled in there. I need to stop because the author's not will be longer than the entry. Review por favor!_**

**_PS, almost everytime I've written a new entry a commercial for Bing had been on tv. Haha, oh the irony. Nate-minder: Always Google, never Bing. =]_**

Tuesday, June 23, 2009 6:34 PM

I don't have much time to write this.

We have about half an hour till showtime.

We are in New Orleans, and how they ever put a stadium here..I'll never understand. Everything is like built on top of everything. Have you seen the big haunted cemetery?

That place is creepy. VERY creepy.

And packed. No wonder the spirits are restless. I wouldn't want to be all up in my neighbor's business like that. Nosy zombies, they've probably gone and made each other angry because there isn't an ounce of privacy to be had.

Plus that crazy voodoo priestess is out there. Do I have to say it again, no wonder the spirits are restless! She's out there in her 'afterlife' screwing things up for everyone.

Stupid ghosts.

Someone ought to give those people just a little more room.

Anyway, the food down here is AWESOME. And so are the people, they are all very welcoming. Especially the guys down the dark alleyways beckoning you to come sample their wares.

Desperate, desperate creepers. No random sampling of wares for Nate.

Do they really expect to attract 'customers' in an alley? An alley?

At that point in time, I may or may not have been lost while exploring the city earlier today.

I basically sliced my open today too. Dropped a glass in the hotel room (by accident! Shane scared me. He's so being eaten first now!) After a trip to our tour medic my hand is now bandaged up and hurting like a mother.

So unfortunately I can't play the guitar tonight. Sorry fangirls, riot against Shane. It is _so _his fault. At least the medic won't let me play the guitar, I tried. Boy it sounded disturbing, like some back up noise to Marily-however you spell his first name- Manson. No offense to anyone who likes him, he simply isn't my style.

At all.

AT _all_.

I wonder what that girl does for a living. She looked old enough to have a job, I mean, I'm eighteen. And look what I'm doing. She must have been bringing her little sister to the concert considering the little girl beside her looker exactly like her.

What if she doesn't like our music?

What if Shane's her favorite or something?

Oh no, oh no. Maybe she hates music. But she's so beautiful.

I'm rambling. As usual.

_We arrived in New Orleans._

_It's a really crowded place._

_And I really had to pee._

_Shane made me Sweeney Todd my hand,_

_And I told him to drop dead._

_I want to hit him with a frying pan._

_OH, New Orleans is filled with angry zombies,_

_And creepers in alleys._

_I want some fricking morphine. HEY!_

So how's that for our next single? I know it's rough but we can work out the kinks.

Gotta go be a rockstar.

(PS. I would never in a million years EVER put that on one of our CDs. NEVER, the zombies and cannibal tribal fangirls may eat my brains first.)


	7. On The Road YELLOW CAR

**_Next one. Enjoy! P to the S, there is one minor dirty word, but not too dirty, so yeah. And if you haven't checked it out, check out my other multi-chapter Camp Rock fic "PREquel." And leave a review, it will make me feel better about it. There are TONS of hits on both this one and PREquel and like NO reviews. So please, read and review!_**

Wednesday, June 24, 2009 12:56 PM

My hand hurts like HELL. Oh, dang IT. That wasn't a very nice thing to say. Oh well.

The show went reasonably well, I swear there was one big cry from the screaming girls when I mentioned my hand. It was funny actually, you would have thought they rehearsed that, great timing girls. I sung my face off though. And maybe perhaps plotted to push Shane off of the stage.

But we won't mention that to him now will we?

Anywaaaaays, really. I think my hand is going to fall off it HURTS so bad. That or I'll chop it off.

Shane is just like, 'oh, it's just a scratch, stop whining.' Yeah, it's just a GASH that needed TEN STITCHES. Why don't I just slash your hand open Shane, see how it feels THEN. I'm feeding him to the zombies.

Jason just faints at the sight of it. That is hilarious to watch.

If only we were still in New Orleans. We left early this morning and are actually on the tour bus now.

You will be pleased to know my scoreboard and picture are still safe and sound. Safe safe safe safe safe. THANK goodness. Jason is safe. For now. Maybe I was taking that whole contest thing the wrong way, Jason might be the better bandmate to live with and tolerate. Considering he won't SLICE MY HAND OPEN.

WHY AM I YELLING WITH ALL CAPS.

OH RIGHT, BECAUSE IT'S FUN AND GETS MY POINT ACROSS.

LA LA LA LA LA.

Okay, now I'm finished.

We are on the way to Pensacola now. Pensacola and Orlando. I am very excited for Orlando, the whole theme park junkie thing has _nothing_, nothing to do with it at ALL. Nooooo. Can you sense my sarcasm through italics?

Who am I kidding, that was the dumbest thing ever written.

Besides the love note Shane thought he was going to write to Mitchie.

NOW THAT was funny.

_Dear Mitchie, _

_Though we've only known each other for a short amount of time, I feel like I've known you my whole life._

Oh, it gets better.

_You are like my personal sun that lit up my dark soul and dark times before Camp Rock. I can't get your cute laugh_ _chocolate brown eyes out of my head. And your voice? It is like a chorus of angels singing and the epitome of all things good in this world._

I won't go on, just thinking about it is enough to make me puke. Thank GOD he never gave that to her. She never would have gone out with him then.

Or at least she would have laughed in his face.

You will also be mortified to know that the girl of my pillowbook is STILL stuck in my head. I swear, she has like duct taped herself in the folds of my brain. I'm going to go legally insane in 2.5 days. Maybe. I haven't quite decided yet.

Orlando.

I wonder what it will br-

YELLOW CAR.

TAKE THAT SHANE.

I am SO winning this game.

Have you even heard of that game? It's pretty self explanatory, a monkey could figure it out.

You see a yellow car while riding in a car.

You get an imaginary point.

And Shane thought he was winning.


	8. One Sip TooALLIGATOR

**_I'm baaaack. SOOOO sorry for the late, well extremely late update. I've been in training at Ft. Leonard Wood, MO for the Army becoming an American Soldier, i.e. no computer access and no time. But now I'm home with plenty of time till I start college. Forgive me please my awesome readers. This chapter turned more crackfic than anything. I DO NOT own Red Bull, I actually think it's disgusting. Oh, the cut off at the end, Nate fell asleep on his computer... Review por favor, press the pretty little button._**

Thursday, June 25, 2009 3:56 AM

Everything in Florida looks the same. I mean, there's no variety. Of course, it's dark, and I can't see anything, therefore it all looks the same to me right now which would invalidate my point and there make all of this completely and utterly useless.

When has this pillowbook been of any use except for my own amusement?

So. Pensecola. Not a huge fan of it. Of course the only thing I like about Florida is Orlando because Orlando is for the wait for it..AWESOME. Which of course means Orlando is for me. Because I'm awesome. Okay, I'm nine tenths awesome.

I still can't play the guitar thanks to my bandaged up hand.

Which is like PURPLE now.

Yeah. It's purple and red and oozing some nasty looking stuff.

I think that's called an infection.

Huh.

Oh well.

Anyways, same old, same old as far as the show went. We sold out. Girls cried over my hand. Shane made an even greater hole in the ozone layer with all of his hair products. Jason, well, was Jason. And me? I pined over that girl. And pined a little more. Bought a pink flamingo. You know, like those stereotypical trailer park pink flamingos, yeah, I have one. I think I shall call him Fred.

Fred. Is. Awesome.

Like me.

On the road again..I hate being on the road again. I HAVE NOTHING TO DOOOOOOO.

Not that it being four in the morning has anything to do with it.

Or that I had onnnnnneeeee too many Red Bull.

Nooooooooo.

Not. At. All.

Did I mention I'm awesome?

Of course I did. When don't I?

I swear I don't have a big head. It's the Red Bull talking. I must find the strength to taaaaaake COONNNNNNTROL. Give me my sanity you dirty wretch, or give me death!

Okay, I don't want death. But I would like to play ding dong ditch at his door.

HOLY CRAP!

Just kidding.

OH MY GOSH THAT'S A HUGE ALLIGATOR! It's just laying there on the side of the road! How did it get there? I thought they were only in the Everglades. What if it senses my fear? And climbs on the bus to eat my braaaaaaaaains! How would it get to my brains? Oh my-I'm going to diiiiiiieeeeeeee!!

Ohhhh.

It's just a pool toy.

Did I ever mention I might be the teeniest bit prone to overreaction?

On Red Bull? Well, now you know.

Life is ssssssuh-weet. Sweet. Sweet like Red Bull.

Cause Red Bull gives you wiiiiings. Okay. I'm going to write a very strongly worded letter to the makers and tell them it most certainly DOES NOT give you wings. I'm not flying around the tour bus.

I wonder if I'm going to crash after this. That's always fun. Maybe I should give myself a point on the eating scoreboard. I wonder what monumental amounts of irony would come out of me ACTUALLY eating the list?

How would I eat myself? Whoaaaaaa. I think I should start with the legs. Cause then I would still have my arms and most importantly my thumbs to continue eating the rest of my body.

Hahahahaha, Jason just fell out of his bed. Oh I enjoy life too much. Too too too too too too too too much.

I think this stuff is about to wear off, I feel the-


	9. The Most Spooktacular Revue

_Authors Note: Soooo I'm back? Having disappeared for months on end (I was in Missouri completing Army Basic Training) I finally found the inspiration to update this, of course this update has been a long time coming and really isn't my best work-we get to move forward a bit in the convoluted weird plot that is this "story." And I don't know whether there are any continuity errors as far as who Shane and Jason are to Nate-they are indeed just CLOSE FRIENDS in my story, not brothers, let me know if I eff that up anywhere.  
_

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_Friday, June 26, 2009 11:45 PM

Oh my gosh.

Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Holy cow! Gee willa-well, I don't know how to spell that one. Oh my goodness! Gee whiz! Ay dios mio! Whatever else could possibly be used as an explanation of surprise!

OMG. (Seriously. This is huge enough to use the OMG. Which I think is stupid, but this is well deserving.)

I mean, this tops the list of weird, but awesome, and also surprising things to happen on tour. This climbs to monumental heights of awesome and well my humiliation.

So _you_, long time no speak, but I know you are probably very annoyed with me because I won't get to the point already. Sorry you. So here goes.

I'm going to say it right now.

Right this very moment.

Riiiiiiight-oh even I need to just get along with it.

I SAW _HER. HER_, like THE her.

The her I've been talking about, and thinking about, and dreaming about, and now that I think about it, being obsessively creepy about.

HER. The her.

Soooooo, here's how it all started.

See, what had happened was, my bandmates and I decided to go to Universal Studios. Cause we got to Orlando pretty early, had some time, and just wanted to go. I love that place. Anyway, when I was like four, I got this awesome little autograph book and had the signature of like EVERYONE, for cereal, every character in the parks around Orlando. And well, as we were leaving Disney World, something happened. Something terrible.

See now, I had already dropped my little book in the toilet. And made my mom retrieve it. When it had finally dried out (and I was allowed to touch it again) I decided to enjoy myself as a cute four year old and read it on the ferry back to the parking lot. Shane, being the awesome older, more "wiser" friend that he is, KNOCKED IT OUT OF MY HAND. (Yes, we've been friends THAT long,) Over the side of the boat. Into the water.

So I screamed. And cried. And tackled Shane. And tried jumping off the boat for it. And got yanked back by my mother. Long story short, I was traumatized by sight of a huge fish carrying off my autograph book.

Now that you're caught up to the present day. I decided to go on another epic quest to get as many autographs as possible, so after lunch we all ventured over to see Beetlejuice's Rock N Roll Graveyard Revue. Sweet show b to the w.

Anyways, it's a stage show. Beetlejuice comes out and has the classic Universal Monsters with him, turns them into rock n roll stars, they sing, they dance, blah blah blah, I just like it OKAY.

When you have Frankenstein in the show, you have to have his Bride.

And historically his Bride has always been HOOOOOOT. Like super, uber, ultra hot. With the short skirt, and the corset, and-ah hem, sorry, those were mildly inappropriate thoughts. What can I say, I'm a teenage boy with raging hormones, DON'T JUDGE ME.

Anyways, again, we were sitting in the stands, minding our own business, listening as Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice..I said his name three times..where is he?) made some crude jokes and what not and BAM—

Attention KMART shoppers, we have a special in the classic monster department, and it's a 4 for 1 deal! They all started parading out, doing their creepy monster thing and BJ began his snarky introduction of the Bride as the door at the top of the wooden stairs flew open and she appeared.

Let's just say heart attack was an understatement. A big big big big big big big big big big big big big big big big big big BIG BIG BIG BIG BIG understatement. HUGE. Gigantic!

Maybe I repeat things post-freak out to make myself feel better?

IT. WAS. HER. The her, I would have recognized those eyes anywhere. Even under the dark purple makeup. I'm trying to make coherent sentences but I don't think I quite remember the approximate twenty minutes the show took place. And then, OH THEN, Beetlejuice shoved them into the smoke and BAM AGAIN, they appear all rock and roll'ed up and I saw a lot more of her than I did at the concert.

Waaay more. That corset left nothing to the imagination. Just saying. Whoa, good thoughts Nate, breathe, cold shower.

So she's up there and she's singing and dancing and my goodness gracious she's got this killer voice and I think at some point the show ended because the noise stopped and the stage manager announced a meet and greet in ten minutes.

Of course, I finally realized this when Shane actually got my attention by repeatedly tapping my bandaged hand. And I said something I shouldn't have. Heh, oops. In my quest for all signatures character, I dragged Shane and Jason to the front and straight to her line where she was standing with Frankenstein.

To put the cherry on top of my banana split of a day, one of the workers happened to recognize us and insisted he give us a backstage tour. And I assumed of course I wouldn't get her autograph. So my bff's had to literally drag me kicking and screaming backstage.

I mean, out of the billions of people in this world, how do I, Nate David Carlson, become immediately attracted to this random girl, at a random concert, fantasize about her, then happen to just suddenly see her again performing in my favorite theme park stage show as the smokin' Bride of Frankenstein, AND discover she has a killer voice?

Fate must be playing dirty games with me.

Little did I know the lines at the meet and greet were short.

Completely zoned out by the awe of seeing what goes on behind the scenes, I didn't notice a rush of purple and black heading right in my direction towards her makeup mirror.

Fate would have it that I slammed right into her.

Fate would also have it that when I realized what happened my heart would stop and I'd look like a babbling idiot. I'm going to karate chop fate.

She began apologizing and finally realized who I was (I mean, who didn't) and started babbling (much like I had) about how she'd recently been to one of our concerts with her sister and how we were okay (just OKAY?) but that she preferred _other _music.

So would her not exactly loving my music cause problems in our marriage?

SHUT. UP. INSIDE. VOICES. Marriage? Really subconscious Nate, really? You just met this girl and she has no idea how much of a stalker you've been and WHOA.

While you've been arguing with one of our many voices, she just took her black wig off and let that gorgeous auburn hair down.

I should have brought my duct tape to keep my jaw from hitting the floor.

So she's still talking and I don't know what to say and Shane and Jason are telling me I need to go so I make one last desperate attempt at completing my autograph book dreams and began gushing about my lame childhood nightmare.

Fate would also have it that she thought it was extremely cute story, ran off with my book to find her castmates, signed it herself in bright purple Sharpie, and took a picture of the two of us for me.

And seriously, I'm not lying.

This is too good and insanely outrageous to make up.

It wasn't up until five minutes ago as we were boarding the tour bus I saw the small note neatly written in the corner by her curly signature (not that I had wanted to stare at it all day).

And here I transcribe it word for word:  
**_(458)948-4679 – Touring has to have its downsides, and I don't foresee you becoming some ax murderer creeper/escaped mental hospital crazy, so chat me up anytime you need an escape from the "glamorous" life and from Shane's constant gazing into anything that shows him his reflection. I know it would be nice to talk to someone that isn't 'dead' for a change._**

**_-Charley (PS. I do have a real name although I frequently find myself ignoring it when hours on end out during the day I answer to the Bride and parade around half dressed.)_**

Need I (Nate here again) say it again?

OH MY EVER LOVING GOSH.

I need a cold shower.

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_So, good, bad, ugly? I'm going to (when I remember, which is hopefully now) post some links to give you an idea of what the stage of this Universal Show looks like and what Charley's costumes look like, if you YouTube "Beetlejuice's Graveyard Revue," and make sure it's from the recent Orlando shows, not where the cast looks like some 90's rejects-the first song in the more recent videos will be Let's Get It Started-you'll get an idea of what Nate is watching. So pray I update this sooner than later and the next section doesn't sound so craptacular. Review por favor..pretty please..with a cherry on top of Nate's banana split?_


	10. Situation of Global Proportions and Fred

**_Another quick update. I figured I'd be a jerk to just leave any of my readers hanging now that Nate has obtained her number. And summer break from college equals having the time to do nothing but write. Hope you enjoy Nate's random ramblings. The links to Charley's costumes are posted in my profile, run by and take a look if you would like. _**

**_PS. _**_**Thank you to the user who just story alerted this story. And to my many reviewers, it means a lot!  
**_

**_Disclaimer: Don't own Camp Rock-or anything of the mass produced things I might have mentioned in the last chapter that I didn't disclose in the disclaimer. I own Charley though, just not her job._**

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Saturday, June 26, 2009 3:56 PM

So.

Yeah.

I've been staring at my phone for three hours. Three hours today. That doesn't count the time I spent staring at it last night. But it was pointless to stare last night, why would I text her at almost midnight, that's just unreasonable. Unreasonable unless she texted me first, but then she probably wouldn't because she might think texting me at that time at night was unreasonable.

It really isn't though. Our concerts last a good while, plus the tear down time—and come on, I may be a celebrity, but I'm not above helping the help tear down from a show, but a cut up hand sort of affects that good Samaritan work. We typically aren't on the bus 'til (well I'M not typically on the bus 'til) around 11:30, almost midnight. She doesn't know that though.

Hmm. After looking at my previous entries, this one looks a bit _dull_. But how in the big, wide world do I top seeing the WOMAN of my dreams? AND she can sing..but doesn't like our music.

DEEP breath.

In.

Out.

IN.

OUT.

Okay, I don't top that.

But seeing as I've saved her number in my phone and STILL haven't tried talking to her yet..

What if she has a show right now? Or, maybe she has a boyfriend..OR WORSE..what is she's _married_? Oh dear sweet Aunt Elaine, what if she's married and lives in a house with a white picket fence, 2.4 children, a dog, and a tire swing with a huge rose garden in the front? I'm a homewrecker!

I'm also hyperventilating.

She can't be married. I mean, she took her younger sister to a concert. If she was married she'd have better things to do. Let's scratch that paranoia off the list.

Speaking of lists..

My "Which Bandmate Would Be Eaten First?" list has lengthened slightly. Shane got a few points for repeatedly smacking my hand yesterday after the Beetlejuice show, using ALL of my hair gel, AND—oh this tops the cake—and you would think him smacking my hand would have, but NO—he stole my cake! My to die for, smack your grandmother, 'seven deadly sin' deadly sinful chocolate cake. I should be more upset with Jason for slamming my injured hand in the bus door this morning, but oh Shane. You. Will. Pay. Just wait.

So all in all, Shane's in the lead. You better hope our jet doesn't just mysteriously stall over the pacific ocean and crash into some uncharted primitive island with natives who still believe in cannibalism. Jason and I will sacrifice your pretty little head first you jerk.

I'm straying away from the emergency of global proportions at hand.

Hand-speaking of hands, mine is okay. Still nasty looking though, and now that it's been slammed in a door, it's pretty epic. Jason thinks I have rabies and Shane thinks I'm going to catch gangrene.

I swear, even though it LOOKS like it might fall off, my hand is perfectly fine.

I think.

I tend to change the subject when there's a problem I don't want to handle. Or I'm in trouble.

Fred's doing well. YOU (hey dude, what's up, we spoke yesterday, you and I have to talk more) have to remember Fred. My trailer park pink flamingo made of awesome? I duct taped Fred to one of the walls in the bus. Shane spits spitballs at him and Jason built him a birdhouse..I wonder if Jason was dropped on his head when he was smaller.

I was dropped on my head, more like accidently bounced off a bed, but that's not the point. I thank that incident for my superior intellect and awesome persona.

OH yeah.

Fred.

I was talking about Fred.

Anyway, well, I forgot what I was going to say about him.

Not that I'm trying to distract _you_ (and my many other voices I think I have) from telling me to just send the stinkin' text message to Charley already.

Charley, that's an interesting name. I wonder if her parents thought she was a boy at first, and then just decided to girl-up her name when they discovered she was a girl. Maybe her parents were some crazy hippies hitting the uh, garden variety drugs at Woodstock. OR OR, her mom was some crazy feminist movement protestor and conned her dad into the name. What if her dad died before she was born and that her dad's name? I am SO sorry hypothetically dead dad of Charley, you have a very nice name.

I would also find out how she got her name if I would just. Send. The Message.

But what do I send? I can't just say 'hi, this is Nate.' It has to be something witty. Like, 'hey dead girl, it's a member of the living world, Nate.' No, that's just lame.

WHAT DO I SAY?

How about, 'hope your jolly green husband doesn't mind you cavorting about with the living. Hey charley, it's nate, from yesterday.' Hmm, that looks good on my phone, maybe I'll exchange—

Oh shiz.

I pressed the wrong button.

I HAVE LOST THAT LAME TEXT MESSAGE TO THE GLOBAL PATH OF OTHER TEXT MESSAGES THAT CAN'T BE STOPPED! HOW WILL I EVER GET HER TO-

Wait a second..

_One new message from: Charley._

_Nate! I was hoping to hear from you. I'm sure Frankie won't mind me talking to you, but he will mind if I'm late to the stage, gotta show in 5, I'll text you when it's all over if that's okay._

I. Am. A. Genius.

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_**Review? **_


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